


Compassion

by Flywolf33



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Apparently Hannibal doesn't know how to not kill people, Bottom Will, Cannibalism, First Time, Gentle Sex, Hannibal/Will - Freeform, HannibalxWill, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Murder, Post Season 3, Revenge, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Hannibal, Violence, kill list, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-29 13:44:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flywolf33/pseuds/Flywolf33
Summary: "My compassion towards you is an inconvenience," Says Hannibal.  This statement is shortly followed by "No greater love hath a man but to lay down his life for a friend." In short, his way of saying I love you.Of course this is mere moments before he is shot, and everything goes to hell. After being dragged from the ocean, Will knows he is past the point of no return. Here with Hannibal, as the doctor always wanted, the former professor must now determine where his own compassion for the doctor lies.DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from the show.





	1. Emergence

**Author's Note:**

> This is one I've been working on for a while, but I wanted to move it over here. I'll update the written chapters pretty quickly and try to keep up at least once a week after that... but no promises.

The Atlantic was cold, and the tide pounded down around him as it crashed against the cliff face. Freezing hands pushed and pulled, guiding him ever deeper into the dark. It was calling to him, and he longed to fade away, leaving his pain behind. It was not to be. Strong arms wrapped around his chest, yanking him up towards the surface.

Will gasped as his head broke free, choking air into burning lungs. His head rolled limply back onto what he could only assume was Hannibal’s shoulder as the older man dragged him towards a small rock patch that served as a shore. The stone was rough and painful on his back, tearing into already abraded skin as the doctor swung him up.

They laid there without words for a moment, chests heaving. Finally Hannibal let out a choked laugh. “Well done, Will,” he chuckled, though wanting for breath.

The former police consultant closed his eyes, hoping it all might go away – but at the same time, not. “ _No greater love hath man but to lay down his life for a friend.”_ Hannibal’s words, utter moments before taking a bullet, rang in his mind. Will was unsure of what exactly he felt towards the man, but he supposed that whatever the variant, it was indeed love. Now he knew for sure that Hannibal did love him as well, though it was not his way to say it. Words like ‘compassion’ and ‘friend’ would have to suffice, and Will would just have to accept it as it was while he sorted out where his own compassion lay.

He was not allowed to rest for long, as Hannibal was soon examining the stab wounds in his face and shoulder. The rest he could handle, but as the doctor likely knew, these two could prove dangerous. Though it stung, the chill waters of the ocean had numbed his skin. He was hardly even shivering, something he knew was not a good sign but didn’t particularly concern him at this moment. He let his friend – dare he call him that? – tend to him.

Will suddenly remembered that Hannibal too was hurt, probably worse than he was. He slowly sat up, wincing as the doctor’s fingers jabbed at him. He ignored him and lifted the edge of his companion’s shirt to inspect the bullet wound. It had passed clear through, meaning he wasn’t going to have to dig it out. The only problem here was that he was now bleeding from two places and likely had severe internal hemorrhaging.

The wet clothes clinging to his skin were doing nothing to warm him up, and as he was lacking better options, Will moved his caretaker’s hands and gingerly took off his shirt. Hannibal frowned, but at least helped him get it over his hurt shoulder. Realizing his plan, Hannibal followed suit.

They sat on the rock, shivering in the icy ocean spray as they patched each other, speaking no words as they moved in harmony. Will found a sort of peace in it, though his movements were clumsy since his fingers were stiff with cold. By some miracle he was able to maneuver his belt around Hannibal’s waist and synch it to hold his temporary bandage in place.

“We have to warm up,” He whispered, breaking the silence at last as Hannibal finished patching his shoulder and was moving to his face.

Dark eyes glinting in the moonlight, the doctor said nothing. He instead wrapped the remains of his once elegant shirt around Will’s head to at least cover the stab wound. He nodded, standing and helping the younger man to his feet. They staggered, but Hannibal was able to get them to a hidden path that led up the cliff face. It was crumbling in places, and in some it seemed nonexistent. The elements had done well at their job of weathering the stone away. Will didn’t think they would make it back to the top, as every misstep and slid backwards caused pain to jolt through him. He heard a sharp intake of breath from his companion at least once, though he didn’t mention it. Not only was he focusing on keeping his breath, but he suspected that the normally stoic man beside him, who had barely behaved like a man in pain as he lay against the piano, would not like to admit that it hurt to move.

He was already supporting Will more than the younger man was supporting him in return.

They finally made it to the top, though they appeared to have come out a fair distance from the small house. The lights were still on, and though it might have been a trick of the eye, Will thought he could see the reflection of the moon on blood.

“Come, Will,” Hannibal said softly, drawing the man’s gaze from the scene of devastation and onto the path ahead. “We must keep moving.”

They stumbled along together, arms around each other’s necks to lean on one another. Now that they were on flat ground and moving, a dull ache was starting to fill Will’s entire being. He was tired, and hurt, and he could finally feel the cold. He wasn’t sure where Hannibal was taking him, but he didn’t think he would make it. He wasn’t sure exactly how long they’d been walking, but it felt like forever. The sun was beginning to rise already, and he struggled to remember if they’d sat on the rock that long or if it had all been movement.

His knees gave out, and the professor dropped to the ground. A soft sigh of shock escaped him as he landed on his hurt side, but he couldn’t summon the energy to react beyond that. He was still in a haze of pain and cold. He was barely even aware of Hannibal lifting him, slinging him across his back, and continuing forward on increasingly unsteady legs. The jolting and swaying of his steps was somehow comforting, and Will was lulled into blissful darkness.


	2. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up and now has to deal with the future he's created with Hannibal.

The first thing Will noticed was that he wasn’t cold anymore. The only remnant of the aching pain that had filled him was a faint throbbing in his shoulder and jaw. He was slowly coming back into consciousness, and with every breath he drew the throbbing became a little more noticeable. When he was finally able to open his eyes, Will thought for a moment he had gone blind. Black satin was draped above him, but as his eyes adjusted he could see faint light filtering through the room. He was in a large bed, clean and stitched back together.

He stared at the canopy, trying to catch the snippets of hazy memory that flashed through his mind. Warm water, careful hands that gently washed him, then the silky touch of soft sheets.

Will slowly sat up, letting the sheets slide off his shoulders as he swung his legs over the side. He was only in his boxers, which had clearly been washed as well. His cheeks warmed as he realized Hannibal had to have undressed and bathed him, washed the only piece of clothing that had survived the night, and redressed him.

“You’re awake,” Hannibal’s rich voice came from the darkened doorway. He carried a tray, the contents of which were hidden in shadow.

Will carded his fingers through his hair, trying not to dwell on his realization and the fact that the doctor too was only wearing a loose pair of pants. “How long was I out?”

Hannibal moved across the room, his normally graceful movements only slightly impeded by a faint limp. As he walked Will noticed that the bullet wound had been expertly stitched closed as well. “All day, though you seemed to rally a few times.” He set the tray on a small table next to the bed and offered the younger man a set of neatly folded clothing. The profiler didn’t bother asking where they came from; Hannibal always seemed to have something on hand.

“Day?” Will turned again towards the window in the corner and noticed there were no curtains, and the only light source was the bright moon. Moving caused the world to spin around him. It didn’t seem right, it being night again. Everything was a blur.

Hannibal merely guided his face back towards him and held a glass of water to his lips. Will winced as he tried to drink, pain lancing through his face. “Slowly,” the doctor said softly, gripping the back of his head and helping him tilt back so the water would naturally trickle down his throat, where he could easily swallow instead of having to work for it.

Will finished the glass, and felt a little better for it. The clothes still sat in his lap, though putting them on didn’t seem to be a priority for the older man now handing him a bowl of hot soup. He didn’t ask what was in it.

He ate slowly, Hannibal helping him so he didn’t reopen the stab wound in the side of his face. Of all the places… but at least it was survivable. They were quiet for a while, the only sounds the clinking of metal on ceramic and the faint gulp of Will swallowing.

“We can’t stay long,” Hannibal said as he set aside the bowl and released profiler’s head. Will almost wished he hadn’t; there was something about having his hand there, so steady and firm, that brought him comfort. “Get dressed; we should leave under the cover of darkness.”

Though he felt much better after eating, Will still didn’t understand how the he seemed so unfazed. It was as if he’d already recovered, though the older man’s injury was far more serious than his own. Then again, Hannibal had always had a way to appear less affected than he was, and had always been good at recovering quickly. It was a skill he was envious of and hoped he would be able to develop, since this was his life now.

He did as instructed, gingerly lifting the shirt over his head and around his arms while Hannibal left the room to do whatever it was he thought he needed to. He returned with Will’s shoes just as the younger man was finishing fastening his belt. He now had a satin button-up shirt on, and his own shoes now covered his feet. He knelt to help Will get his on, silently maneuvering the profiler’s feet into the shoe.

They finally left, Hannibal taking care to leave everything in certain spots, except for the missing clothing and food. He even locked the door and tucked the key very carefully under the corner of the front mat. The walked down the long driveway to where an old, beat up truck waited. Will glanced at Hannibal, struggling to imagine the classy man selecting _this_ to drive.

He seemed to notice the look, because he spoke frankly. “We need them to think we are dead, so I thought it best to arrange transportation that might be of a lower profile.” He opened the passenger door and waited expectantly.

“I guess you’re right,” Will replied as he stepped into the vehicle. The seats were well worn and yellow cushioning peeked out of tears in the fabric. He tried not to be disgusted by the state of the poor thing; he was sure his companion was far more uncomfortable than he was.

The truck gurgled before roaring to life and Hannibal pulled out onto the road. “Where are we going?” Will asked, though he wasn’t particularly concerned. Foolish as it may seem, he trusted the man beside him now, regardless of their past.

“We have much to discuss, Will,” Hannibal replied. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of.”

The former professor’s gut clenched. He had an idea of what he meant; the doctor was a man of his word, and he’d promised a few people to come for them. “Who’s first?”

Though his eyes had yet to leave the road, Hannibal now glanced at his passenger. He had that look in his eye, the one he got when he was on the hunt, planning and calculating every step. “Who do you want to take first?”

Will thought for a moment, running through a list of people he knew were on their radar – it didn’t seem to be all that weird to him that he was now thinking as ‘they’ – and trying to decide. They had all been his friends at one point. All had tried to help him, and yet all of them and ushered him into the killer’s arms. He owed them, and yet... he felt an odd sort of clarity thinking about what it would be like to take their lives. He’d imagined killing Jack once, when asked how he’d wished _that_ night had transpired. This was different though. This felt _real_.

This was a test, he knew. He’d promised Hannibal these things before, and had ended up betraying him. It had cost him Abigail, and nearly his own life. Jack and Alana had nearly died that day as well, but by a miracle they survived. Not that it would get them anywhere now.

Will stared at his driver and when the older man glanced at him, he knew who the first target would be. He could see it in his eyes. He looked back at the road, though he was aware of Hannibal watching him for a moment more. A calm sort of silence fell between them. The younger man had accepted the test. 


	3. Assessment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will proves that he belongs to Hannibal now.

Blood ran through his fingers like silk, red painting his skin in delicate patterns of violence. The knife slipped from numb fingers, the clatter of its impact reverberating in his ears. He stared at his handiwork. He should feel remorse, or sadness, but all he could muster was some sort of contentment. He’d made his choice, passed his test. Everything would be okay now.

“Well done, Will,” Hannibal’s gentle voice came from behind him, where he was surveying the scene with a critical eye. “It is rather messy, but we have time to work on your finesse.”

Will let out a small giggle of ill humor. “My first was just ten bullets to the chest,” he pointed out. “And my second was with you. I think I’ve improved.” He looked back at the blood-soaked forms that had once been his wife and step-son. Molly had been surprised to see him, but relief had washed over her face as she rushed to embrace him. She babbled on about how Jack had told her he’d died and she was so glad he was finally home. It took her a moment, but she soon realized that he had not moved to hold her in return and had said nothing. He simply stared ahead blankly.

“Will?” She asked in confusion, backing away with a concerned expression. “Are you okay?”

She never even had time to scream. Will had whipped his arm up, catching her full in the throat with his weapon. Her mouth opened and closed, eyes wide in surprise and confusion as she slowly sank to her knees. Her hands grasped at the wound as she toppled over, trying to stem the flow of blood as she choked for air. Will stared down at her, compassionless as he watched her struggle for life.

“Mom?” Walter’s voice wafted from the hallway.

Molly’s eyes bugged in panic and her rasping became more insistent. One hand left her throat and reached toward Will as if trying to stop him. Her weak hand grasped his pants as he looked up and stepped over her, silently moving into position beside the doorway as his step-son walked in. He began to scream when he saw his mother, but Will pounced on him, stabbing the boy in the side of the neck as he wrapped his hands around his head. An audible snap pierced the air and Walter thumped to the ground, unmoving. Molly let out a choked but desperate scream, abandoning all attempts to save her own life and trying to drag herself to her son’s lifeless body. Will crouched down, caressing her face and gazing coldly into her terrified eyes as she struggled. He stabbed her several times, each jab eliciting gurgle.

It didn’t take her long to cease her fight.

Will had stood and looked back at Walter, but the boy was well and truly dead.

That was when Hannibal finally entered the house. He’d been watching from outside, where he’d ensured the dogs were penned in and not going to interfere.

The corner of the cannibal’s mouth twitched at the younger man’s statement. “I must concede the argument, as this is far more artful than your past attempts.”

Will didn’t bother pointing out that his past ‘attempts’ hadn’t actually been in an effort to impress him. He merely looked back one last time at the mayhem and walked calmly out the door. Hannibal located the fallen knife and wiped the handle clean of any fingerprints his protege might have left. He would have to teach him a thing or two about covering his tracks before they moved on to the next one.

The pair climbed into their newest vehicle, a newer model SUV they’d borrowed from the neighbors. They would be returning it to their driveway with the bloodstains Will would leave in the driver’s seat. As it was night, the couple would be asleep and likely hadn’t even noticed their car was missing.

“Clean the steering wheel, Will,” Hannibal chided when they arrived. They had many more stops to make, and he didn’t want them getting suspicious before it was unavoidable.

The younger man did as asked, using the edge of his shirt to smear the blood enough to eradicate any proof of his presence in the car before following his teacher back down the drive to where their original vehicle waited.

“You did well, Will,” Hannibal repeated after a few miles of silence. “You struck without hesitation or thinking. How do you feel?”

The younger man thought for a moment, carefully choosing his words. “Nothing. I felt nothing; just cold and empty.”

Once again the seasoned killer’s mouth twitched, but he still didn’t smile. “It will become easier. You have great potential Will, you just needed direction.”

“You have given me that,” Will said quietly.

“You still have much to learn,” his companion continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “You must be more careful. You cannot leave evidence of your presence – fingerprints, hair, blood. Nothing can point to you.”

“How did you do it?”

“I had a suit I would wear, one that was easy to clean and could be stored in secret. Do you recall sending Jack to test my clothing?”

Will nodded. “He said there wasn’t anything.”

Hannibal just watched the road, not needing to explain any further.

The drive passed in silence for a while more before they reached a twenty-four hour shopping center. Will was glad Hannibal had taken over driving, as he knew where to park outside of camera view. They walked about a mile back in the direction they’d come, keeping a short distance from the road to stay out of view until they reached a small house tucked into the trees. It had been foreclosed and was empty; a perfect place for them to lay low for the remainder of the night.

Hannibal made his younger companion strip to his underwear in the back yard, bundling his clothes up in a way that prevented them from dripping any remaining blood onto the floor. It was chilly outside, and Will shivered violently while he waited for the more experienced man to pick the lock and invite him inside. Since the heat had been shut off in the house it wasn’t much warmer than outside, but at least he didn’t feel quite as exposed.

Hannibal barely glanced at the mostly naked man as he checked to see if water would run – it did – but when his eyes did flick Will’s way it made him uneasy. He looked at Will like he was something to eat. At the same time, he felt that the doctor would not do so. They had played cat and mouse long enough to find a comfortable equality, though he once _had_ attempted to kill and eat him. A thought crossed his mind, and Will let out a quiet snicker.

“What is so funny?” Hannibal asked from the sink, where he was washing the blood from Will’s clothes.

The younger man snorted. “I was just thinking about our encounter in Europe, when you tried to eat my brain,” He said, head twitching slightly as he turned to look more fully at his companion.

Pausing his washing the doctor looked up and met Will’s gaze, something dark in his eyes. “You find that amusing?” He seemed mildly perplexed.

Will smirked. “No, I was just thinking… that’s what you get when you play with your food.”

The air was still for a moment, but only a moment. Hannibal smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling as the darkness left them – mostly. He returned to his washing, mouth still curved into a small smile. Will watched him for a moment, still shivering, before deciding to explore the house. It was completely barren. The carpet was new and the rooms smelled of fresh paint, but it apparently still hadn’t been enough to get it to sell. It was a hard market, after all. He could hear water running as he ghosted from room to room, but left Hannibal to whatever he was doing.

His stomach ached; they had eaten breakfast stolen from the last house they’d borrowed, but had run out and didn’t have any food for tonight. They couldn’t risk going into any stores for fear of CCTV, and since this place was vacant it would be too much to hope that there was some sort of scrap in the cabinets.

Will stared out one of the bedroom windows into the dark trees that pressed close to the building, musing his day. Here, with Hannibal, everything felt right. He’d said that he couldn’t save himself just before their fall, and it didn’t feel like it was a bad thing after all. This felt… pure.

The weight of a hand appeared on his shoulder, but he didn’t jump. He hadn’t heard Hannibal enter, but he did sort of sense his presence. “You will catch a chill,” the quiet voice said, though he made no attempt to move.

Will shivered again. “It’s not like I have anything to keep warm with,” he replied, keeping his words just as soft as the previous ones spoken. “We can’t take clothes from an empty closet.”

“No,” the other man agreed. The floor creaked slightly as he shifted his weight.

Will leaned back and wasn't surprised when he met Hannibal’s chest. The older man didn’t react for a moment but eventually rested the side of his head against Will’s, despite the crusting blood that soaked most of his hair and face. His hands came to grip his upper arms, grasp firm but not tight. They stood in silence while Will soaked in the heat radiating from his companion.

The warmth disappeared as the psychiatrist pulled away, his grip steadying the younger man when his support vanished. He didn’t let go, instead guiding him to a bathroom where a warm bath had been drawn. Will hesitated, still feeling somewhat awkward and self-conscious about barring himself completely to Hannibal. Yet had he not already done that, in more ways than one? The man behind him knew the innermost workings of his mind like nobody else ever had. He and the profiler had been dancing around each other for years, each working to capture the other first. Though Will had managed to get the murderer behind bars – or technically glass – it was really the older man that had won in the end.

Will conceded, removing his last piece of clothing and sliding into tub. He almost groaned at the relief the water gave him from the cold air. As it was he closed his eyes and laid back his head as he sank down and immersed himself.

Hannibal chuckled softly and perched on the edge of the porcelain. His sleeves were still rolled up from washing the clothing, so he simply started cupping water in his hands and pouring it over Will’s head. His fingers worked into his curls, massaging his scalp and turning the water pink. The younger man relaxed and nearly drifted off to sleep while he let Hannibal wash him – again. This seemed a little one-sided.

The fingers stopped. “Will?”

“Hmm?” He answered, opening his eyes.

“You stopped humming. Is something wrong?”

His brow furrowed. “I was humming?”

Hannibal smiled. “Well, that is the civil way to put it,” he said somewhat smugly.

Will’s cheeks warmed and his gaze flicked to his knees poking out of the bath water. He soon met his companion’s eyes again, noticing that they had darkened. “Was I?” He murmured, phrasing his question again. He could have sworn he saw the corner of Hannibal’s eye twitch, but he must have been imagining it. Hannibal was unflappable.

“What is it that seems to have upset you?” He too reiterated his original question.

“This,” Will said simply, one hand waving vaguely in the air.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he decided. “But I was to return the gesture.”

Hannibal cocked his head a little. “You want to wash my hair?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “You stitched both of us up, kept us under the radar, and have taken care of everything. The most I’ve done is murder my wife and son.”

The fingers started moving again, tugging through the longer locks to dislodge stubborn bits of dried blood. “They weren’t your real family Will.”

Will agreed. “No. They were a distraction.”

“Are you focused now?”

“Yes,” Will whispered.

Hannibal seemed satisfied with this answer and finished rinsing Will’s hair in silence. He gently wiped the blood from his face, careful not to get the now stained water in his eyes. Once finished, he stood and collected his jacket, which was draped over the top of the door. “Since we lack proper towels, this will have to do.”

Will accepted it as he stood, nervously holding it in front of him. The doctor turned to leave. “Wait,” Will said, eyes drifting to the floor momentarily before rising back to the man stopped in the doorway. His jaw worked as he tried to find the right words.

He didn’t need to. Hannibal turned back around, unbuttoning his shirt and allowing it to slide from his shoulders. His bullet wound was still angry and red, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it. Will had hardly noticed his own wounds this last day as well, though his were minor compared to his companion's.

The older man reached down and unplugged the tub. Once it had drained, he refilled it. Will stepped out, drying off with the shirt and slipping his boxers back on while Hannibal finished undressing. It was an odd thing for Will, seeing Hannibal so casually baring himself before him. He couldn’t help but stare as the now naked doctor lowered himself into the tub and allowed the profiler to guide his head back. His eyes were closed, and he almost seemed to nuzzle into Will’s touch.

They sat in silence while Will washed his hair. There was no real need to, since shorter-haired man hadn’t gotten any blood in it that day, but he seemed to be enjoying it none the less. He let out a deep sigh through his nose, a blissful expression on his face. The intimacy of the moment caused the younger man’s hands to falter, but he quickly resumed his task.

He’d taken the time to look – really _look_ – at Hannibal before, but never like this. There had been many charged moments throughout their interactions. There had been many silences taught with them just _looking_. He had never looked at him in _this_ light before. Even when he had come to the realization that the cannibal actually loved him, Will had rationalized it. He’d convinced himself that it was a different kind of love, or that Bedelia had been wrong.

She hadn’t been. Everything that transpired since the Dragon had attacked the police convoy was proof of it. And here, sitting in a bathtub and completely vulnerable, Hannibal was opening himself even further. He clearly trusted Will. The younger man couldn’t help but wonder if he had trusted him even before that fateful night. The look he’d given him as he lay against his piano, bleeding before Dolarhyde’s camera, suggested that he knew Will would come to his aid. He simply couldn’t help it.

He finished his job and allowed the doctor to drain the bath a second time and stand. He passed over the jacket, though it wasn’t likely to be very helpful in drying anymore. Hannibal wiped himself down anyway and also reclaimed his boxers, but didn’t dress any further. “It only seems fair that I be in the same state as you,” he explained to Will’s perplexed look.

The professor appreciated the gesture, though it seemed silly for both of them to be cold.

Hannibal hung his jacket, which was now soaked, over the curtain rod and beckoned Will to follow him. They stepped into one of the carpeted rooms near the back of the house. The psychiatrist sat against against the wall and gestured for Will to join him. He did so without question, allowing Hannibal to guide him onto his side. His back was pressed to Hannibal’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around the younger man to hold him close. Though it was awkward at first, Will found himself comforted by his companion’s body heat. He tucked his elbow under his head and with Hannibal’s calm breathing to ground him, he drifted into sleep.


	4. Transition

They rose before the sun, wanting to return to their stolen truck before they could easily be identified. Though their clothes were still damp the dressed after ensuring the building was clear of any evidence of their presence.

The walk to the truck was quiet; no cars passed on the road, and there was no need for them to speak. Will had slept better last night than he had for days. They had managed to keep each other just warm enough to be comfortable. There was something about Hannibal’s presence at his side that made Will feel safe. It was odd, considering all the times the man had tried to kill him.

They reached the truck and eased back onto the road, heading away from the scene of last night’s murder. They had already risked checking on one crime scene, and they couldn’t risk the vehicle being recognized.

“We will need to find a new car tonight,” Hannibal noted, as if he’d read his companion’s thoughts.

“Where are we headed?”

“I think it’s time we pay dear Jack a visit, don’t you?” He glanced at his passenger.

Will stared ahead, once again feeling numb and emotionless. “I suppose. He’s already had lived long past his time.”

The driver smiled slightly. “That he has.”

There was a moment of silence before Will asked his next question. “Are we going to eat him?” There it was again, the ‘we’. Here it seemed a little more out of place since he was talking about himself eating another person – someone who had been his friend. Then again, his psychiatrist had been feeding him human since the day they met. It wasn’t new, though he now knew what he would be putting into his body.

“It was a thought. What do you think?”

Why did he always turn these things on him? Had he not passed his test? Did he want to see if this was an act, and just how far Will was willing to take it? “Do you think I’m playing you?” He asked quietly.

“You have before,” Hannibal pointed out. His voice suggested he was hurt, as if he’d never really forgiven him.

“So have you.”

Again the twitch of a smile. “True,” the older man acquiesced, “but you delayed your fate, while I was pushing you towards your full potential. So I wonder: how far will you go to save your own life?”

“I don’t think you’ll kill me,” Will told him. “Not now. Before I thought I was saving myself from you. Now I’ve realized that you were the one trying to save me all along, and I must save me from _me_.”

Hannibal smiled more fully this time. “Save yourself, kill them all.”

It was something he’d said to the Dragon, Will knew, but it seemed far more appropriate in the context of their list. “Yes. I will eat what you cook,” he said, answering the original question.

Satisfied, the cannibal let the cabin fall into silence once again. Will’s stomach growled, but he didn’t know where they might be safe to find food at this time. People were starting to wake up, and there were enough eyes watching that would likely recognize them. They had been quite the celebrities for a while, and he was sure Freddie Lounds had written something about their little display by the sea.

Speaking of… “Freddie Lounds,” he broke the silence, his tone a mix between a question and a statement.

“Yes?”

“She’s next.” She had been enough of a pain that Will knew he would have no trouble taking her life. He may even enjoy it.

“Very well,” Hannibal replied turning to avoid a stoplight with a camera. “How would you like to go about it?”

Will thought about the last time he’d ‘killed’ Freddie. She had broken into his shed and seen the setup Jack had helped him with, to give his story substance. He’d gotten pepper-sprayed and nearly shot, and ended up not only dragging the reporter out of her car window but ripping out a chunk of her hair. He had to admit, it had been kind of fun to frighten her. Keeping a straight face while he slipped into her view as she dug through the freezer had been difficult. This time the threat would be real, and he would have Hannibal to back him up when she bolted.

“I want to catch her snooping for a story,” He said at last. “Like I did the first time.”

“It will take time watching her to pick a place of opportunity,” the more experienced killer warned. “We will have to find a place to stay a little longer term than a foreclosed house if we are to pull this off.”

Will swallowed, trying to think of a place where they could remain out of sight but still have access to food, clothing, and Freddie. “There are some vacation homes not far from where I lived when we first met. We could stay in one of those.”

Hannibal considered it. “Show me the way,” he requested, glancing over at his passenger again, “and let’s hope they keep their pantry stocked.”

“Do you mean normal food, or _your_ kind of food?”

Hannibal simply smiled and drove on.

~~~

They found a good place, tucked into the trees and far enough from any neighbors that they could safely have the lights on without being noticed. A small stream ran not far from the back of the house, and there was a well-maintained backyard. Hannibal and looked at it with a critical eye, but thought that there must be a paid landscaping crew to take care of it. They would simply have to lie low when they came by and they would be fine.

Much to Will’s delight, there was some food stocked. Mostly canned goods and other non-perishables, but it was something. Hannibal managed to cook them a decent chili out of the corn and beans, though he seemed rather dejected that it lacked _his_ kind of food. Will was amused by the silent distaste the doctor emanated, and he seemed all the more irritated by his chosen companion’s satisfaction.

His stomach finally quieted, it didn’t take Will long to find a warm bed and snuggle under the blankets. Their weight was mildly familiar, but he couldn’t seem to find rest. He tossed and turned, fading in and out of uncomfortable haze. 

“Can’t sleep?”

The voice from the doorway caused the restless man to jump and bolt upright, staring at Hannibal’s silhouette. He relaxed after a moment when he realized who it was and shook his head, running his hands down his face. “Outside of my time under arrest, I haven’t actually slept alone,” he pointed out. “I always had the dogs with me, and then Molly too.”

Hannibal seemed to disapprove of the mention of their last victim, but didn’t say anything. He just considered his companion for a moment and slowly walked to the edge of the bed. He wore a loose pair of pajama pants he must have found in a drawer somewhere. Will had merely worn his undershirt and boxers. He was once again feeling exposed as the doctor slipped under the covers on the other side of the bed and stared expectantly at him. “Are we going to sleep or not?” He asked.

The profiler swallowed and nodded, slowly sinking back down into the pillow and rolling onto his side, trying not to think too much about the older man resting behind him. That attempt was quickly stifled as Hannibal drew Will back to him and cradled him, much like the way he had the night before. 

“It is okay, Will. I can protect you.”

Though he was now fighting it, he was quickly consumed by a peaceful rest.


	5. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal leaned down, tilting the younger man's face up. He considered him for a moment before capturing him once again in a kiss. Will finally melted, sliding backwards into the pillows. Without breaking the kiss his counterpart smoothly followed, crawling onto the bed and resting over him like a blanket. His right hand planted on the mattress and held his most of his weight off the smaller man while his left brushed up his cheek and into Will's hair once again.

Everything with Hannibal seemed to happen one of two ways: he was either incredible gentle or raw aggression. There was hardly any in-between. He was wild and unpredictable and could go from cold and calculating to fire and blood within moments; yet he always seemed to maintain that calm detached clarity. Arguing with him was no different. Will mused on this as he stared at the ceiling and thought about the previous night's events. He really shouldn't have been so surprised.

Bedelia had attacked them during dinner.

It wasn't amazingly startling to have the meat fork vanish from the table while the two men were in the kitchen preparing the finishing touches. It wasn't a shock when she lunged the best she could at Hannibal in an attempt to stab him with said fork while he served her food. It _was_ a surprise when she landed her shot – just not where she aimed. The fork sank into the cannibal's bicep. He jerked away on reflex, grasping her wrist and twisting it back so she let go of the improvised weapon before Will could jump in.

"That was rude," Hannibal said, removing the utensil from his arm. He wiped the tines with her napkin before setting it back into its place. Will's lips pressed together in disapproval but he didn't speak. He opted instead to remain in the doorway and keep an eye on both Bedelia and Hannibal as the older man returned to the kitchen and casually wrapped the two punctures as though he'd merely cut his thumb sharpening a knife.

When he finished they took their seats and ate as if nothing had happened. Will could feel his annoyance crackling into anger the longer they continued, though he made an effort to continue to keep his calm exterior. He'd grown used to being a blank canvas, beginning to understand why his former psychologist had turned into such a calculated killer.

Once they'd finished eating Hannibal escorted Bedelia back to her room, where he drugged her and strapped her down so she couldn't try to escape or contact anybody. Will was washing dishes when he returned from his task. "Perhaps we should disarm her tomorrow night," Hannibal said, collecting napkins and folding them before setting them in the laundry pile.

Will seethed. "Or we could not give her sharp objects."

Hannibal looked at him. "If you are uncomfortable with giving her basic utensils I can continue to serve her dinner."

"That's not the point!" Will slammed on of the dishes into the other sink. He hadn't let his temper go like this in a long time. "She could have killed you had her aim been better!"

"Francis shot me and stabbed you, but here we are."

"Because we killed him!" Will shouted, spinning around and glaring at his companion.

Hannibal maintained his calm demeanor, but the former teacher could see the rising anger in his eyes. A different man would have let it go rather than risk rousing the psychologist's ire. Will was not stupid, but he was also unafraid. "We shouldn't risk the liability," he said, voice dropping back to a normal volume.

"No," Hannibal said firmly, but refused to explain.

There was a tense silence as the pair stared at each other, dishes forgotten. Hannibal's eyes flicked down to his companion's lips. Will's heart pounded as he and the killer continued their stare-down, though the tension in the air had vastly changed. He'd read somewhere that eye contact maintained for more than 6 seconds denoted either sexual desire or the wish to commit homicide. With Hannibal it could very well mean both.

He licked his lips nervously, once again drawing his opposite's eyes, though this time his gaze lingered a little longer before darting back up. Will swallowed as Hannibal's head twitched, doing that thing that meant he was contemplating different outcomes for an action. Will found himself leaning towards to the other man slightly, eyes straying to his mouth for a moment as well.

Hannibal seemed to come to a conclusion, because the next thing the profiler knew, he'd taken several steps forward and their lips were pressed together. He was stunned only for a second, but his lack of reaction was clearly enough for his counterpart to begin to draw away. Will blinked at the man, completely taken aback. Bedelia _had_ said...

"I am sorry Will, but I-"

The younger man pressed forward, cutting Hannibal's words off with a returned kiss, surprising even himself. He quickly reciprocated, and they simply took a moment to adjust and feel each other before breaking away again. The older man's eyes had darkened, pupils blown wide. It was the same look he'd had while washing Will's hair _that_ night.

The older man pressed Will against the counter and locked their lips together again, one hand coming up to gently tangle in his hair. The profiler found himself mirroring him, his free hand balling up his counterpart's shirt in his fist. All their anger fizzled; Hannibal was gentle as he caressed his face while they kissed, slowly sliding his hand down to pause at Will's throat. His thumb rested in the center, just above his clavicle. Will tensed a little, but the elder man's hand was already travelling downwards again, sweeping over his right shoulder, trailing down his waist, and gripping his hips firmly. Will gasped quietly, giving Hannibal the opportunity to snake his tongue into his mouth. The professor enthusiastically accepted it, fists tightening. He only realized he must have pulled Hannibal's hair when the man moaned quietly.

They broke for air again, staring at each other with hearts pounding. Will opened his mouth to speak but Hannibal stopped him by stepping away. "We must finish cleaning up after dinner."

Left short of breath, the younger man nodded and turned back to the sink. He could hear Hannibal moving around in the room behind him, but he had to focus all his attention on what his shaky hands were doing so he didn't drop and break any dishes. He could feel his pulse throughout his entire body, but especially in his pants. He was glad he had the counter to hide it as his face was already flushed with embarrassment; the last thing he needed was for Hannibal to see.

He took long enough that the older man disappeared into the bathroom, his tasks finished. Once he was done with his own chore, Will made his way to the bedroom he'd claimed as his. Bedelia oddly had three rooms in her apartment though two of them had clearly never been used. Maybe it was the only one she could get with the level of security she felt was necessary? Whatever the reason, they were here and they might as well use them. Hannibal had even left him alone the night before. Will had trouble sleeping that night, but he didn't want to admit it was because the bed was empty.

Now, however...

The professor sighed and solemnly undressed before crawling into bed in only his boxers. He was far too hot to wear a shirt tonight. He settled on his side with his back to the door, staring at the wall and brooding. Why had Hannibal stopped? Was Will wrong? But hadn't the doctor kissed _him_ first? Why would he-

"Will," came the quiet voice from the foot of the bed.

Will bolted into an upright position, hands splayed to either side of him as he stared at Hannibal. He was once again in a pair of stolen pajama pants. His dark eyes glinted in the faint light coming through the window, giving him a predatory look. Will's heart leaped into his throat. He sat frozen as the doctor slowly came around the foot of the bed and stood close enough beside him that Will could feel his body heat.

Hannibal leaned down, tilting the younger man's face up. He considered him for a moment before capturing him once again in a kiss. Will finally melted, sliding backwards into the pillows. Without breaking the kiss his counterpart smoothly followed, crawling onto the bed and resting over him like a blanket. His right hand planted on the mattress and held his most of his weight off the smaller man while his left brushed up his cheek and into Will's hair once again.

The professor ran his hands up the other man's sides, pressing into his back to try to pull him closer. It didn't work; instead Hannibal tugged Will's head gently back and kissed slowly up his jaw before trailing his lips down his throat. Will's breath caught, but he soon released it in small groan when Hannibal's teeth brushed his Adam's apple. He also chose that moment to roll his hips down into Will's, causing him to arch his back and whimper while he dug his fingers into Hannibal's back.

He was suddenly grateful that for once he'd attempted to bypass the sweaty shirt as Hannibal's mouth made its way down the his chest. He wasn't sure when the older man shifted all his weight to his knees, but he was acutely aware of it when both his hands ran down his sides and came to a rest at his hips, holding him down as his lips latched onto a nipple. Will's hand flew to clutch Hannibal's hair while the other fisted in the sheets. His body twitched, but he couldn't push through his counterpart's grip. He tried bending his knees so his feet were flat on the bed, but it was to no avail.

Hannibal tortured him like this for a while, waiting until he had the professor panting to slowly begin pushing his boxers down. Will hissed as the fabric brushed over his half-hard cock. The hiss turned into a full groan when a warm hand wrapped around it and slowly stroked it. Up, down, twist, over... Hannibal's movements were leisurely and deliberate. Occasionally his thumb would press down on the tip and make Will's moans hitch. It wasn't long before he was fully erect and panting.

A fingertip rested at his entrance and Will tensed, but Hannibal didn't try to push in just yet. He massaged the ring of muscle, gently prodding it as he continued his ministrations to Will's dick. The younger man eventually relaxed. Hannibal must have slicked his fingers with Will's precum because he barely noticed when the first one finally pushed in until it was being slowly pulled out again. He held his breath while the digit was pumped in and out of him a few times, always moving slow and gentle. A second finger was added. Will was surprised how little it hurt as Hannibal continued to move. His fingers suddenly crooked and Will jerked as pleasure jolted through him. He yelped. "H-Hannibal," he gasped, "I'm going to-"

Suddenly all stimulation was gone.

A long whining moan escaped Will's mouth as he opened his eyes to see Hannibal discarding his own garments and returning to his position between the younger man's bent legs. He leaned over him to kiss him deeply. Will easily lost himself again until the head of Hannibal's cock nudged up against his ass. Will's body froze, muscles contracting.

"Take a deep breath," Hannibal suggested, one hand returning to tug at Will's abandoned member.

The teacher did as he was told, focusing on relaxing. Hannibal slowly pushed forward, gentle but persistent. The head of his dick burned, but it quickly popped through the ring of muscle. The older man didn't pause though; he kept his pressure until he was completely sheathed in his partner. Will shuddered, letting out a deep groan.

Even Hannibal was breathing heavy. He lowered himself so his body was completely flush with Will's, removing his hand from the cock now trapped between them. He gave the smaller man a moment to adjust before slowly pulling most of the way out and pressing back in. Will moaned and slid one hand up to cup the back of Hannibal's neck while the other remained in the sheets. Heat flashed through him when Hannibal hit _that spot_ again. He let out a sharp cry.

The doctor kept up his slow pace, taking care to aim his hips and hit Will's prostate with each gentle thrust. "Faster," Will gasped, straining his hips to push back into his partner's movement. "Please," he added.

Hannibal said nothing, but he finally began rolling his hips faster, picking up the pace until they were rocking the bed. No matter how fast he went each thrust remained gentle and caring.

It really was unfair that the doctor had both an intimate understanding of human anatomy and of Will. Between the steady rhythm hitting his prostate and the constant friction of their bodies on his dick, Will was a groaning, panting mess all too soon. "Hah- Hanni- bal, I'm- I'm going- g-going to-"

"With me," the older man rasped in his ear.

Will could only nod and clench his eyes shut and tighten his grip as Hannibal increased the pressure, rolling his hips in just the right way-

A hoarse cry tore its way from Will's mouth as his head pressed back into the bed and his orgasm caused his body to spasm. Hannibal thrust once, twice, three more times before burying himself deep and choking out a guttural groan as he came.

They lay together panting for a few moments before Hannibal carefully pulled out of his companion and rolled off the bed. Will grunted at the sudden cold. The older man returned with warm, damp towels and tenderly cleaned them both up.

"You're bleeding," Will noted sleepily, fingers grazing the stained bandage around Hannibal's left bicep.

"An inevitability," he replied, discarding the towels and tucking the sheets over them. He wrapped his arm around Will's waist and pulled him so they were curled together.

The professor heard the older man inhale deeply before he seemed to nuzzle into the back of his head. He smirked. "Did you just smell me?" He murmured.

Hannibal's only answer was a soft snort of laughter.


End file.
